


Demon Eyes

by LouPF



Series: Still It Burns [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Dark Harry, Dark Harry Potter, Demon Harry, Demon Harry Potter, Gen, One Shot, Short One Shot, Slytherin Harry Potter, but there's a story based on this one in my works section!, it's called 'let the light guide your way'
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-04
Updated: 2019-03-04
Packaged: 2019-11-08 23:42:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,117
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17990759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LouPF/pseuds/LouPF
Summary: Lord Voldemort has just summoned his Death Eaters, almost directly after being resurrected with the help of Wormtail. He starts his glorious speech, but Lucius seems to be a bit worried about the person tied behind his Lord - namely, Harry Potter. It turns out that Voldemort may have bitten over more than he can chew.





	Demon Eyes

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Maggie :)](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Maggie+%3A%29).



Voldemort was having quite the day. His resurrection had gone perfectly as planned – Potter had been kidnapped with little fuss, Wormtail had given his arm with no strings attached, and he’d gotten to talk a bit about his plan. Not enough to reveal anything serious, of course, but enough for the boy’s interest to be piqued – and enough to give any pure heart quite a scare.

He’d summoned his Death Eaters – and what a wonder it had been, having magic pulse and flow through his veins as natural as blood. Now they were popping in one by one, shrouded and clouded shadows and shapes twisting out of the darkness. The familiar rush of power sparked through him, and he let a slow, dangerous smile onto his lips. His Death Eaters could feel the same power, he knew – but they would react to it in a vastly different way.

He was just about to start talking to them when Lucius’ gaze fell on something behind Voldemort. His eyes widened behind his mask and he shivered, a nervous twitch going through his body. Normally Voldemort would excuse that tiny movement – shock at seeing Potter safely within confinement, surely – but after the initial twitch Lucius _continued_ to twitch.

“Lucius,” Voldemort snapped, turning his head only slightly to give him a dark look. “What ever might be troubling you to such a degree that you cannot look at your own master?”

Lucius startled, then shook even worse than before. “My Lord,” he said, and though he sounded quite calm Voldemort heard the slight tremble in his voice. “I – you probably know, but – ”

He was getting fed up with this. “But, but, but,” he repeated mockingly, waving his hand dismissively in the air. “Spit it out!”

Lucius winced, pulling into himself and away from Voldemort.

“ _Voldemort!”_ a voice screamed, and it was dark, so dark, echoing with such a wonderful, terrible power that it brought a shiver even to Voldemort’s back.

He turned, slowly, giving Potter a mockingly pleased smile. “Ah…” Voldemort said, taking two deliberate steps in his direction while running his fingertips along the length of his wand. “Harry, Harry, Harry. That’s not a way to speak to your superiors, now, is it?”

Potter twitched, wrinkling his nose as he bared his teeth in a feral snarl. He fought against his restraints, but his nails scraped fruitlessly against the stone of disgusting father’s grave. He would not get loose – no wizard could remove those restraints unless they were Voldemort himself. “Do not – _Harry_ – me,” he whispered, and there was something to his voice, something darker than anger and worse than fear. The ground shook. A few feet away a tombstone cracked in two.

A brave, stupid child. “Oh,” said Voldemort, twisting his head in the way he knew his followers despised, letting an echo of parseltongue into his voice. “You prefer Potter? Or perhaps… James?”

The words did not have the desired effect. Potter simply lowered his head, shoulders trembling, and for a brief moment, Voldemort wondered if he might have already broken the boy. Pathetic, really – no fun to play if the toy breaks.

But then Voldemort recognized the sound breaking the eerie silence.

Potter was laughing.

His Death Eaters mumbled among themselves, the sound of ruffled robes reaching Voldemort’s ears. A twist in the air signaled that one of them apparated away, quickly followed by another.

Potter raised his head, staring at Voldemort with soulless eyes through midnight-dark bangs. They were so terribly blank, so incredibly empty that hadn’t it been for the toothy grin on his mouth Voldemort would have thought him dead. “You do not wish to do this,” Potter said quietly, and there wasn’t a trace of humor in his voice. It was hard to tell from this distance, but unless Voldemort was mistaken, his eyes were flashing yellow. “If you’d just mind your business, I’ll mind mine, and we’ll never cross paths again.” Again the ground shook, and this time it cracked apart right by Potter’s feet, the rift spreading and widening until it came to a staggering halt before Voldemort himself.

A nice little trick he’d learned there – a pity his heart was too soft to truly hurt Voldemort.

He tilted his head and stepped closer once more, slowly leaning forward and prodding the tip of his wand into the soft flesh right beneath Potter’s jawline, lifting his chin to meet his gaze.

Potter stared back with that same dead expression, eyes empty yet blazing, grin wide and with shimmers of teeth.

“You’re funny,” Voldemort said, putting more pressure into his wand. Potter didn’t even wince. “Hadn’t I wanted you dead from before I would have wanted you imprisoned for that comment alone.”

A moment where the magic snapped in the air around them, swirling and twirling and brushing against Voldemort’s cheek, dark and alluring and so terribly powerful.

And Potter laughed the most wonderful laugh Voldemort had ever heard, loud and sharp and able to give the bravest man goosebumps. “You have no idea what you’re messing with,” Potter whispered when the laughter died down. Voldemort raised an eyebrow, about to comment on the pathetic attempt at intimidation –

but then Potter disappeared out of his grasp, leaving only a puff of smoky clouds behind. The ground creaked beneath Voldemort’s feet, shaking and spinning, and he took a staggering step away from the now empty tombstone.

A sharp laugh from his right – Potter stood by the portkey, crouched and touching the ground, back bent and an inferno in his eyes. “Don’t play with fiendfyre, Voldemort,” he whispered, the grin wider now, displaying glinting fangs. “You never know when you’ll get burned.”

He grasped hold of the portkey and spun out of existence.

Voldemort stared at the spot where Potter had been standing.

Behind him, five Death Eaters exhaled as one. And then silence rung once more.

“He, uh, he likes you, my Lord,” Lucius said. There was amazement in his voice.

Voldemort blinked. Then wonder flooded him. What a strange creature – certainly not the savior the wizarding world wanted. “What a strange creature,” he murmured aloud.

Scattered, nervous chuckles from his Death Eaters. “He once wrecked the Ministry completely when they lied about him in the Prophet.”

Laughing softly to himself – he would certainly have done so as well, though perhaps not in quite the same manner as it sounded like Potter had done – Voldemort turned to the tombstone of his wrench of a paternal parent. There were claw marks in the stone.

“Strange creature,” Voldemort repeated to himself. “Such power…” He laughed again, tracing the claw marks with his fingers. They came back dusted with powdered stone. “Perhaps I like him, too.”


End file.
